


Six Times

by anyothergirl415



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-26
Updated: 2009-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415





	Six Times

The first time it happens it’s like someone just thrust his head under water and Dean’s shoving back from Sam, sputtering for air in his shock. His arms do this odd little flailing thing that has Sam turning on his heels and walking away. By the time Dean realizes his brother’s name has yet to fall from his lips, the taller man has disappeared inside the motel room and later. Later they pretend it never happened because Dean’s not ready to discuss… _whatever._

The second time it happens Sam’s slamming him up against the wall and slipping a firm muscled thigh between his legs, shoving up hard as his tongue thrusts into Dean’s mouth. It’s a little like the dreams Dean has once or twice a week only those are mostly vague so Dean just _thinks_ it is. Sam’s tongue down his throat is affectively keeping him from voicing a protest – but he has one. He’s sure of it. _Lips. Teeth. Blood._ That’s what stops them.

Dean curls fingers in Sam’s shoulders and shoves hard enough to make the man stumble back – calves hitting the mattress, ass dropping down. One blink. Two blinks. An inhale accompanied by a shaky exhale and Dean’s growling. “Sam.” It’s a warning and a command and a desperate plea all in one.

Sam takes it in stride, pushes up and cards a hand through wavy locks. “It’s only a matter of time.” A shrug and he’s out the room. Leaving Dean to stumble back against the wall as if those words have taken the place of Sam’s heat pressing in on him. Later. Later they don’t talk about it but Dean can tell by the look in Sam’s eyes that they’re not pretending it’s not _there_.

There’s a stretch of three months before the fourth time happens, followed quite swiftly by the fifth.

The fourth is just a brush of Sam’s lips against his ear lobe when he leans in to whisper something about the case. They’re in the middle of the hospital – people walking on all sides of them – and it should be an innocent action. _Should_ be. It’s not though. Sam’s fingers brush the curve of his hip like a whisper before he’s pulling back. Dean wants to punch him hard in the side of the face. Wants to shove him away and put him in his place. Wants to slam him against the wall, drop to his knees and suck him in until Sam’s fingers claw against his scalp and he begs for release.

Ten steps outside the building and Sam’s wrapping thick fingers in the collar of his suit, spinning him round and driving him back into rough bricks. Air leaves his lungs in harsh whoosh and he doesn’t have time to suck in a gasp before Sam’s lips are like fire over his. Anyone could see. _Anyone_. And Dean grinds his hips against Sam’s because the ache in his crotch is blurring his vision. Weakening his knees. Making his heart race faster than it ever has.

When Sam pulls back he’s smirking and Dean’s torn between punching or kissing that expression away. Only Sam’s halfway to the Impala before Dean can finish marveling at the fact that his baby brother has managed to reduce him to a puddle of goo leaning against the wall of a hospital. In the middle of a case. Later. Later Dean keeps a steady eye on the boy – man, shit when did he become a man? – because he _knows_ it’s only a matter of time.

Then there’s the sixth time. Which is really the last time Dean bothers to keep track because he’s given up hope that he can go on pretending it’s not what he wants. He’s only fleetingly surprised when the shower curtain is pulled back. When his brother’s lips are against his. When their bodies slide together like oil. Like gunshots. Like explosions of fireworks across his skin and oh _shit_ Dean is in deeper than he thought.

This time his fingers curl around Sam’s shoulders to shove him to his knees and the water pelts his brother’s back like pouring rain even as his mouth opens. It’s dirty and wrong and the – ever clichéd - so _fucking_ right. Sam’s name falls from his lips in a plea for more and his brother swallows him whole.

Later. Later he opens his arms as a silent invitation when the bed dips and his brother curls in beside him.  



End file.
